


Be Kind, Please Rewind

by Vagab0nd



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 02, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Fix-It, Growing Up, Multi, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-08 04:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17974469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagab0nd/pseuds/Vagab0nd
Summary: Sent back into a past that they had already lived (one of them twice) six thirty-year olds and one fifty-eight year old jump into old, new bodies, sitting down to breakfast right before they can watch the world they knew burn beneath their gaze. All of them, suddenly thirteen and completely alone in their own abandonment to mankind, begin to weep.Alternatively: a bunch of really old teenagers try to start a life together while also trying to convince the world to take them seriously. Eventually, it gets easier. Strong angst developing into light humor and familial mush.Continuation directly following Season One.





	1. Number X

**Author's Note:**

> Hewwo! This is one of the first things I've ever really written to show people, so I hope you like it!!

March 24th, 2019

 

Before the Moon cracks open, Luther finds himself admitting something he hasn't even considered to admit since he returned from his mission - it is a beautiful specimen. Strong in the sky, a benefit to all who looked upon it, a beauty and grace to bless the lands she watched over with no scorn on her dry, cracked skin. It was harder to see it in full glory when you sat directly upon an encampment facing the exact opposite of what you would normally, but to admire anything of the Moon for one Luther Hargreeves was to tell a prisoner to lavish his prison with gifts and praise. It was unrealistic and did not have a purpose, but he was touched by it's serenity in the split second before it shattered his reality. A few of the others were not so fortunate to live in the moment before the moment began to approach them from above.

Allison did not look up. She knew what Vanya had hit. She knew what she had done. She had been powerless to make her judgement or any decision clear and she was not a leader. She never had been, and now she'd never have a chance to prove that she could be. Holding tight to the vibrant, white body of her sister, she heard her brothers scramble frantically for a solution. Claire would have thought the Moon was pretty, red spreading over it's surface like cobwebs, so it was a shame her mother didn't think to look.

Five was not scrambling. He simply knew what he must do, and when to do it; immediately. Five commanded attention. This was all he had known for too goddamn long, and he would stop it now, right now, finally now. He would-- he could fix something. Anything. His hands shook. His arms all but cracked, like a glow stick shifting into a semblance of power.

The first meteor hit.

Ben had died once before. He held Klaus and thought perhaps, even as Five yelled something about them trying to reverse this, reverse anything at all, that he would have liked to see if they would join him, or if he'd just fade away, or if maybe he would remain alone. He wasn't sure. It seemed morbid to consider - the possibility of disaster - but he couldn't help but to feel as if he was slower than normal, because he was, unbeknownst to anyone including himself, already in mourning.

Life on Earth was halved within seconds.

Klaus simply breathed. He was dying sober and he was dying after proving his worth. He knew about the little girl, now. On the bike. He knew about the barber shop. The spirits that haunted him were from somewhere, right? Biting his bottom lip, he nodded absentmindedly. Yeah, this was… Fine. It was fine.

(The three of them recognized now, looking outside themselves for but a moment, why he was holding his hand out and clasping at nothing, arm hanging in thin air. They were relieved, yet unaffected. Ben needed no protection. One of them almost resented him for it, for a split second.)

Taking each other's hands took years, and the texture of each fingertip was almost too much to bear for all of them, although they clung for dear life through the shock. Each of them began to feel like they had already died. Vanya did not dream, but even in her comatose state her insides shifted, her brain fired signals that she did not receive. Her white clothing glimmered in the fire's overwhelming shine.

The world was gone now, drowned in flames, and seven thirteen year olds shook under the cacophony of pure existence they shared between each other for far too long. Used to it, Five blinked rapidly, tears welling in his once young brown eyes, now aged like firm wood. They were closed for a split second, and then the stage erupted into a performance with no ensemble to be found.

  
  
  
  
  


\----

March 24th, 2002

 

Breakfast. Oatmeal. Reginald. Early morning. Birds nesting in the overhang of the second story awning. The clink of seven spoons hitting ceramic bowls in unison. Grace receives thousands of signals a minute, but she finds herself in a situation where all of her processors have begun to go haywire in response to what she is experiencing here. Five, little Five, begins to shake, violently, and pounds his fist into the table, whooping like a madman as fat tears begin to slip down his cheeks. His reaction is immediately countered by Two, who’s head whips around as if wire had pulled him by the hair. He looks her dead in the eye and smiles as one hand covers his teeth, and his eyes well up akin to his brother's.

One is silent, but he moves immediately to catch Seven, as she falls forward suddenly into her plate. She does not stir. He gives a watery sigh, pressing his face into her shirt and clutching her as if her life laid in his hands. Grace debates moving to administer first aid but she is almost violently pushed away, and her question is interrupted by a different vocalization. 

Three's cry is so loud and relieved that when her eyes widen and she clutches at her throat she seems surprised by the volume, Grace observes through the mess of things happening. Three continues to wail, loudly, almost obnoxiously, a direct mirror to Six, who the gangly Four is suddenly wrapped around like a vice, and neither of the boys seem to be able to stop staring at Six's hands. The combination of their tears makes a small puddle next to Six’s oatmeal, and a vibration goes through the droplets like an earthquake when Reginald pounds the table with one closed fist.

“What is the meaning of this??” He shouts, booming voice resonating off of the ornate wooden fixtures and china plates set stationary on dusted shelves. Grace's smile stays fixed to her face, laced with worry and concentration as she begins to sort through information. Her path is set back further still when no one responds, all continuing their earlier behavior as if the man had not uttered a word. Perhaps, her programming suggested, they would listen to her.   
“Children, remember that this is a silent meal.” She urges as kindly as she can manage, reaching down to place her soft hand on Two’s shoulder, which only worsens his situation, as he hiccups and grabs onto her hand like a starved man scrambling for food. “Perhaps…” She tries, circuits firing inside her haphazardly as her external systems remained calm, “We could have a bit of a rest day, if something has upset them this much.”   
Pogo walks in now, confused at the sudden explosion of sound most probably, and makes a soft noise of concern and surprise. Reginald gives his own hum under his breath, a low and angry sound, and gestures at One with a wizened hand. “What on earth is the matter with Seven?” He demands of the boy, answered by a sharp noise that is so completely unexpected from the usually quiet, refined child that even Grace blinks in surprise.    
The old man squawks in indignation, so thoroughly taken aback that he has nothing to respond with. One takes Seven to lay her gently on the floor, petting her hair back and murmuring to her softly before sitting up.    
“Mom, she needs a compress, a- a cloth, warm cloth, something.” He says, unorganized in his speech but firm. Grace, nodding and immediately complying to follow her protective instinct, moves to click her heels over the hardwood floors in order to make her way into the kitchen.    
“Children, you can’t continue like this without explanation, it won’t solve any of your problems. You’re taking it to the extent of just being dramatic.” Reginald tries again, but even Grace can tell his resolve has shaken, and he stands to move away from the table, poisoned in his own disbelief and barely able to move for lack of any reasoning to lean upon.    
It’s Five who finally speaks through his short-lived breakthrough, but he has a smile upon his face so genuine that he shines, his face shining through a thin sheen of sweat. “Jesus Christ, I’m glad you died.” He laughs with short, thin breaths, standing up as well from the table and reappearing with but a whisper of clothing at Reginald’s side, grabbing a plate and slamming it into the man's head with a might no one but his siblings would understand coming from such a young boy.   
“NUMBER FIVE!” Pogo shouts, his body folding into a defensive stance, wide eyes flitting from one child to another as his master's body falls to the floor, limp, with a mysterious lack of blood appearing under his white hair. Grace, having just barely stepped out of the room, steps back haltingly, looking with raised eyebrows at the happenings - but she now has at least a semblance of idea of what to do, and moves immediately to administer first aid.   
“What the hell’d you do that for?!” Number Four shouts still holding onto Six, who has continued to cry softly into his brother’s arms. “Dude!”   
“Oh, i’m sorry, was I getting in the way of your plans? I needed him to shut up!” Five spits.

“So you killed him?!” Two sputters, hair falling into his eyes.

Holding the shattered remains of the plate in his hand, still poised as a weapon and now pointed at Pogo, Five shakes his head.“I didn't  _ kill him, _ genius. He's just knocked out.”

The Butler’s face is pulled into a scowl, and he stares at Five with his body sprung tight. “Master Five, or whoever you are, I suggest you begin explaining very quickly.” he begins, interrupted by Two, who moves to stand next to Grace, drawing his body up to its full height as she kneels to pull small pieces of plate from Reginald’s hair. He is miraculously unharmed, save for blunt trauma, she notes. An expert's work. 

“Shut up, Pogo.” Two snaps, putting a hand on her shoulder. She pats his arm, attempting to comfort him in order to cling to any semblance of her other objective. “We know you’re not trained in any combat, and neither is Mom.”   
“Well I can certainly take down a thirteen-year-old.” Pogo says drily, before the tension is broken by Three, her voice too loud, as if she needed to hear it before anyone else did.    
“We’re still us.” She says, her dark hair falling over her face before she brushes it behind one ear. “Pogo. We’re still us, he’s still Five, everything’s fine and we don’t… Want to hurt you.” She gives warning glances to Two and Five and walks to kneel next to Seven. 

“I told you guys, he adopted us to get us to stop the Apocalypse!” Four says, extracting himself from Six's grasp, finally. “We could have just talked to him!”

“Talking to him never worked before, why should it work now that we came back?” Five replies, folding his arms and watching as Grace moves Reginald's head into her lap, looking over his shoulders for any embedded shards of plate left unseen. “We should just leave now, abandon this place entirely so he can figure it out on his own. We technically stopped the apocalypse regardless.”

“We're public figures. We can't disappear if everyone knows who we are.” 

It's Six who speaks up now, and he sounds unsure if his voice will carry or not as he wipes his tears away with one hand.

“And you forget, we're all thirteen now.” Four adds. “You got no adults to cart you around this time. We're  _ all  _ invited to Jimmy's birthday party.”

“Five is right.” 

Everyone turns to look in disbelief at One, still holding on to Seven as if she were a buried treasure left yet unfound.

“Luther-” Three says, and Grace looks - Three's still taking to One, how bizarre, was that a nickname? - “He's got all the resources we need to-”

“EXCUSE ME.” Pogo says, and a bit of his natural voice appears, squeaky and frantic. He clears his throat. “ _ Explain. Now.” _

“I can time travel.” Five says.

“You know very well you are not allowed to do that.” Pogo says.

They both look at the other.

Two groans. “Oh my God. He sent himself to the future and then transported us back here but it we  _ were _ right before the world ended cuz Vanya shot the Moon.”    
“At least I tried to start simple.” Five grumbles.   
“What?!” Pogo offers.   
“Neither of those answers are even, like, halfway good.” Six sighs. “Pogo, look, we’ve all lived this timeline already, okay? All of us have lived for 17 years past this date. Dad and… Our treatment of Vanya-” He stops at this to clear his throat “-Seven caused her to lose control of her powers, be filled with hatred and stuff, and cause the apocalypse. Five is actually 58 while the rest of us are 30. Kinda. I died, though, so it doesn’t really matter I guess how old I am or how ghost years work.”   
“Congratulations on being alive again, by the way.” Three says feebly.

“Yeah, missed you man.” Two says.   
“God, I don’t want to even THINK about how that works right now.” Six replies with a grimace, his hands going into fists by his sides. His tears have not completely stopped their descent, and wet the collar of his crisp shirt.    
Pogo looks tired and says “I need to sit down.” Before moving to a stool by the right of one of the ornate and decorative tables.

“Why are we in  _ these _ bodies if your time travel just keeps you in your own body, Five?” Two asks. “Why aren't we still adults?”

“I don't know.” Five admits. “I've never travelled into a timeline in which I already exist in before. Maybe this is the space-time continuum's way of keeping only one of me around at one point.”   
“What we actually need to think about right now, guys, is what we’re gonna do with dear old pops.” Four says drily, surveying the injured man and Grace as he wrinkles his nose. Grace moves as if to stand up with Reginald in her arms, knowing she needs to get him to his bed to rest, or perhaps the medical bay, which she will decide when she picks him up.    
“If he knows everything, wouldn’t he have known about Vanya?” One asks. “How he… How we basically did all of that?”   
“Be a dear and help me pick your father up, children.” Grace says, unknowing if she would get a response and her steps faltering as she rises with him in her arms.   
“We could tie him up, ask him questions?” Two offers, followed by a soft “Mom, don’t, not now.” that gives Grace pause.   
“We should just tie them all up.” Three says. “Tie them up, talk to them, try to get them to see things our way, and then try and get them to work with us. But… After Vanya wakes up.”   
“If it’s all well and good, I would prefer to be left untied.” Pogo says from his chair. “I’m perfectly content sitting here.”   
“Or we could knock them all out.” One offers, and Pogo’s head jerks sharply in his direction. “Less risk.”   
“More being an asshole.” Three snaps, and One’s eyes turn sad, as if he were a dog who’s paw had been stepped on by accident. “You’re right, Allison, I just… It was stupid. Yeah.”    
His sister does not look at him for longer than a moment. “We’re tying them up. Pogo, just… stay still. I want to make sure you won’t get a gun or something.”   
Pogo moves to stand but Four is on him in an instant, the boy blinking owlishly as he paused before taking his pants off and wrapping them around the monkey’s long arms.    
Two scoffs a short “Gross, man.” before maneuvering Grace up and out of holding her Master carefully and pulling her to the chair he had recently deserted, binding her hands together using the lace from his left shoe, and attaching that to the back of the chair. Grace smiles kindly up at him. “Alright Number Two, but he really should be somewhere safe with his head elevated, and try not to shake him too much.”   
“Okay.” He says blankly, and behind him One moves to push everything on one side of the long table to the other, condensing everything so he can lay his sister upon the higher surface, then immediately turning to pick Reginald up and set him in a chair as well. The old man’s hands are tied together as his head lolls to one side, and the three “adults” are lined up neatly in a row, “children” between the table and Seven who laid on top of it. Grace smiles gently and Pogo looks from one Hargreeves sibling to another.

“So Number Seven ends the world.” He begins softly, looking at the little girl, helpless but ten feet in front of him.

Grace observes them silently next to him, and he shakes his head. “I'm… sorry to hear that...” He finishes helplessly. 

“Yeah, me too.” Four offers with a little giggly whisper, tying his Blazer around his waist as a makeshift sort of pants. “You guys should have told her she has powers.”

His eyes glaze over for a second, and he seems to realise something. 

“Shit.” He and Five hiss at the same time, evidently on the same train of thought, and Five disappears and reappears at the bottom of the staircase, running up it's expanse in a great hurry.

The rest look at Four, who swallows heavily.

“I really hate saying this, but… She  _ super _ needs her drugs.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing for baby fandoms, you guys are infinitely receptive and so kind!! Agh! This chapter is pretty hefty, but the rain comes before the sun, right? ❤️ (Sorry if the formatting is a little off, I'm trying my best)

“If we give her the drugs, won’t she not trust us even more?” Two suggests, even as Five disappears from sight.

One shakes his head. “If she wakes up and everything is immediately stressful we don’t know how much of a grip she has on herself or what can set her off. At least this way we can…” He looks at Three, exhaling in one long breath. “Talk to her.”

Three’s eyebrows raise, and she pauses a long moment before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, for safety reasons… We should probably give her a dose and then give her the rest of the bottle to do with as she pleases.”

“We could also just throw all of them out, burn ‘em or something.” Two responds.

Five poofs to the bottom of the stairs, holding a bottle of pills and shaking them from side to side. “I wouldn’t suggest that.” He says, maneuvering one out into his hand.

Four nods in agreement. “We don’t even know what’s in these or how she uses them in her immune system, or what’d happen if they went in to the grass or something. You know, like grease can't go in a sink?”

“Does Pogo know what’s in them?” Six says.

All heads turn to look at the monkey, who looks blankly back at them. “Depakote and Seroquel. They’re drugstore anti-psychotics.”

“Oh shit. In my defense I was WAY excited about super-drugs.” Four admits cheerily.

Three steps in front of Five, holding out her hand. “Let me give it to her. A woman’s touch.”

“You’re thirteen.” says Five. His sister doesn’t falter, so he decides to pick his battles and ignore this one in particular. She takes the pills from him with one tiny hand and steps up to the table, placing the little pill in between Seven’s lips and tilting her head up to pour apple juice gently into her mouth until she swallows, putting her back just as gingerly after a moment. A sigh ripples through the group as the siblings sit in relative silence, waiting for something to explode out of her or for her to sit up suddenly.  
The silence stretches on too long, and true to character, Two is the one who finally breaks it.

“That sure was a great plan, Luther.” he says, fire tainting his words. “Really just… Wonderful! We pulled it off without a hitch.”

“You followed it, Diego.” One says, rolling up his sleeves in a manner that looks threatening before he simply stares at his arms, blinking owlishly.

“Yeah, because I was an idiot and trusted you! But it was out of desperation blinded by stress, believe me - when was the last time you came up with a successful plan?”

“You don’t think anything I ever say is worth listening to, so excuse me if I think you’re a little biased!'

Three steps in now. “If we hadn’t followed any plan and instead tried to talk to her like she was a normal human being, we wouldn’t be here right now!”

“You don’t know that." Five says. “Because as far as we know, that was the day the world would end, and end it did, so what we really should be looking at is how we can prevent it from happening again.”

“Which we can do by treating Vanya like she’s her own person.” Three says. “Which takes us back to square Luther, who better not screw us royally again when Vanya wakes up.”

Grace speaks up, surprising everyone else in the room.

“Did I name you?” she asks softly, her smile kind, and the question is so random yet so poignant that no one wants to answer. The children are now awkward and silent, caught in the act of bickering, and there’s a certain reluctance to meet her eyes that she can’t understand.

Six, surprisingly, is the first to speak up. “Yeah. When we were eighteen, you gave all of us names.”

Grace nods. “I wrote them all down, when I first met you. Kept them safe until you had to leave me, but I guess you already did, hm?” She laughs, a voice like tinkling bells soothing everyone in the room as if by magic. 

“Your name is Luther.” She says first, turning to the tallest boy, her little giant. He smiles shyly.

“And you are Diego.” Number Two’s breath hitches, and he looks as if he’s holding back a fresh batch of tears, just barely.

“I heard a rumor your name is Allison.” She says with a twinkle in her eye, and her daughter gives a slightly hysterical little laugh.

“And Klaus.” The boy shoots a finger gun in her direction, clicking his tongue with a wink.

“And-” She begins, but Five shakes his head, gently for Five, more kind than the others have seen him with anyone but Delores. “I don’t want anything but Five, Mom. Please. I just… Don’t.”

Grace understands, somehow. She turns to Six.  
“Benjamin. Ben.” She says, drawing a shudder from the boy, who hadn’t heard her say his name in a very long time.

“And Vanya.” She finishes, looking over at her baby girl perched on the table, and seeming as if she’d like to add something else before she’s interrupted by a groan to her right as Reginald stirs, shifting in his seat.

All of the children tense as if they have been hit by a shockwave, some of them more violently than others, but they all stand grounded at the spot, standing tall.

Reginald looks up, monocle askew, and instead of exploding like Klaus expects, or immediately trying to escape like Five expects, he instead takes his sweet time in reorienting, shifting from side to side, pulling his shoulders into various positions, rolling his neck one way to another, and clearing his throat before finally sitting up. It’s disgusting, Ben thinks, how he can come off as a man of dignity even as his own kids tie him to a chair in his own dining room. So prideful, so vain.

“Well, it appears as if you are the ones that put me here, so either explain yourselves, as me questions or leave me be.” He says with eyes half-lidded, mustache quivering with unidentified emotion. Luther feels himself coil with discomfort out of instinct, and Klaus feels small enough to want to leave right then and there.

Diego shakes his head. “Nah, we’re the ones setting the pace here, Dad.” he says, his voice almost still enough to be confident, nearly enough to be capable.

“Fine.” Reginald says, and sits.

The ticking of the clock is deafening.

“We survived the apocalypse and we know how to stop it.” Klaus says, and it seems to be a good start, because Reginald leans back in his chair.

“Oh do you now?” He says, disbelieving.

“Yes, we do now.” Klaus parrots, flapping hands a bit.

“We lived through it.” Allison confirms, gesturing at her sister. “She causes it, and so do we. We all have a hand in it. We make her feel like she isn’t good enough, she finds the first person to show her affection that she can, latches onto him, and plays into a trap. You should never have told her she was powerless.”

Reginald is silent, so Luther takes a deep breath and steps forward. “I don’t know if you have plans for it yet, but you sent me to the moon for a long time, and I think it’s gotta have something to do with how the world ended when Vanya’s energy penetrated it’s surface. You must know more than you’re letting on, or know someone that knows something-”

“And we want in.” It’s Five who says this, his steady gaze locked on his father. “Or at least I do. I want the information that you have.”

“More importantly,” says Allison, refusing to unpack everything that any conspiracy could be made out of right now, “We travelled back here from 17 years from now and we aren’t kids anymore. You already did a shit job of raising us, abuse and all, and it didn’t do anything."

Ben crosses his arms. “Hear that dad? Everything you did to Vanya? Everything you did to _Klaus_ ?”  
Klaus gestures for him to stop, but Ben refuses. “No, Klaus, if you won’t say this I will. He’s done it to you already at this point, and he knows what I’m talking about. You turned Klaus into a drug addict, Dad. _You_ did. You failed, utterly and completely, to stop the world from ending, and the only way Klaus could forget what you did to him in the meantime and escape everything you taught him to recognize, was with hard drugs. Addiction. Dealing. Long arrest records, ODs, the whole shebang! Great job. Oh, and me? If you must know, I die because of you, in seven years. All you, this is ALL YOU. Because of YOUR PLANS.”

“It’s not all him, man, I did everything myself, I took the drugs, I bought the needles-” Klaus says helplessly, and there are more tears, dammit, being a kid was so difficult, did crying ever stop? Why was he so emotional, why were _they_ so emotional-

“ _NO_ !” Ben yells, his face turning red with his efforts. “No, he fucking ruined everything for the world, he made everything disappear, because he sedated Vanya for thirty years, he made us lie to her, to the _world_ , he sent Luther to the moon, made Allison feel like she could never genuinely be loved, put Diego in a place that he could never hope to escape from as second place, he KILLED ME, and now he’s just SITTING THERE, looking at me like i’m a FREAK, like he _ALWAYS DID_ .”

Klaus shakes, putting his arm on Ben’s shoulder.

“Please…"

“I don’t-”

“Cmon, Benny…”

“I-”

“Cmon.”

Diego wants nothing but to run to Grace’s arms like he always used to when his father wasn’t looking, and Luther wants to run to his room, but he feels lost in the unfamiliar familiarity of the huge mansion.

They don’t hear anything but hard breathing from every angle, and they don’t bother to look at Reginald, but at each other. He is no one, anymore, after being everything for so long. He is a virus that has contaminated their bloodstream. 

“Mistakes were made, then.” the man finally says, calmly. Even Pogo looks taken aback at this, as he looks away, body sagging. Even he had wished he’d say _anything_ closer to an apology.

“But, you have a chance to do it once again, so I suppose things can be done differently this time around.” he finishes. “We can change your training regimen.”

“We’re _not_ following a training regimen.” Diego growls. “You’re not our father, not anymore.”

“My roof, my rules.” Reginald says, but everyone can tell he doesn’t believe that.

“Your roof, seven adults, we take care of ourselves and don’t call the police for child abuse.” Allison snaps.

“Hard to show any signs of abuse, i’m simply strict.” Reginald says.

“Bet.” replies Klaus, simply.

“Hm. Besides which, people will start to wonder why the Umbrella Academy isn’t doing missions anymore.” comes the response, but Five is ready.

“Then we decide our missions and you continue to act like you know everything.” He says evenly, pushing back a cuticle like he hasn’t a care in the world. “We’re just living under your roof. You masquerade as the good father you like to pretend you are, we are respectful to the public and refrain from making anyone want to gauge our action figure's eyes out, and live here until we’re eighteen. Then we… I dunno, move on with our lives, find our own condo or something. Maybe get a therapist and scare them out of their mind.”

Reginald shakes his head. “You all think you’ve got this figured out, don’t you?”

“So did you, until you killed yourself to get us all together again and even then we failed to stop _anything_ .” Diego replies.

“How dramatic.” their father says with a raise of one eyebrow. “Well, if you all insist on governing yourselves-”

“-Raising ourselves, i’m sick and tired of having a leader.” Klaus interrupts.

“Alright, raising yourselves, frankly I see no alternative. But you simply must agree to let me study your brains and ask you questions about your progress.”

“We won’t _simply_ do anything.” Luther says from the back of their huddle, although he is six inches taller than the rest of them. “But maybe we will, if we’re… Feeling, um, nice.”

“Wonderful. Now untie me.”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading I love u


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